


No Hanky-Panky

by Vivian Moon (vivian_moon)



Category: Spider-Man (Ultimateverse)
Genre: Community: marvel_kink, M/M, Roommates, awkward teenage sex, hanky-panky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivian_moon/pseuds/Vivian%20Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is tough for a teenage superhero living incognito.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hanky-Panky

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving my old kink meme fills from years ago...

Life is tough for a teenage superhero living incognito. And not just because he has chores. (Who the hell has to do _chores_?)

See, the thing is, when Peter's Aunt May said 'no hanky-panky', Johnny interpreted that as 'I don't want to find any naked girls hanging out in my house at three in the morning'. Which, okay, is harder to work around when you live in an actual house rather than an eighty-floor skyscraper, but whatever, he's flexible.

Turns out 'no hanky-panky' actually means _no_ hanky-panky. He has neither hanked nor panked for weeks now. High school entails way less time for sexing than movies have led him to believe, and Aunt May takes keeps scarily close track of what he's doing with his time outside of it. He hasn't been on a leash this tight since his powers were a highly classified military secret.

(It's sort of kind of maybe reassuring, after the horrible freefall feeling that hit him after Dad was gone. But that doesn't mean he's not ready to explode from sexual frustration.)

Hell, he can barely even get a moment to jerk off in private. He's sharing a room with Bobby, and Aunt May usually sends them both off to bed at the same time so it becomes this whole weird thing of lying there thinking 'Is he asleep? Is he asleep yet?' until by the time it finally seems like he _is_ the mood's deader than Reed Richards' fashion sense. And he can't take a long shower without people banging on the door and complaining that he's using up the hot water.

So he's as much sympathetic as he is amused when he walks into their room and Bobby snatches his hand out of his pants like he was not up to anything remotely suspicious in there, no sir. Johnny's about to grab something off the desk at random and depart - hey, who says he's insensitive to others' needs? - when he registers the magazine Bobby's trying very unsuccessfully to hide under a pillow.

"Dude," he breathes in amazement, staring at the holy grail. "You have _porn_!"

This is a minor miracle. Aunt May polices this house tighter than the military ever did the Baxter Building. The Mole-Man wouldn't stand a chance at sneaking in on her watch.

"It's not!" Bobby says, flushing - well, okay, he was pretty flushed already, but it isn't going anywhere - and hugs the pillow he just stashed it under like Johnny's going to try and take it from him.

Which, hey, might not have been the original plan, but who is he to resist a challenge?

"Is so," he says with urbane wit, and snatches at the corner of the pillow to unveil the porno to the world. This is slightly less successful than expected, because the pillow is suddenly a block of solid ice. But ha, Iceman's forgotten who he's dealing with. A brief flicker of well-controlled flame, and Bobby's leaping off his sodden thawed-out pillow with a yelp.

Leaving Johnny free to snatch the slightly damp mag from beneath it. He gets a brief glimpse of a pair of sophisticated young ladies getting very friendly, very naked before Bobby lunges to grab it back. They play tug-of-war briefly, but naturally Johnny wins, and he falls back to lounge on his own bed.

"Oh, my bad," he says, reading. "I see this is very educational. Who knew Candy and Stacy would like volleyball and taking long soaks in the bubble bath?"

As Bobby dives for the magazine again, Johnny holds it over his head, forcing Bobby to stretch over him to reach for it. Fighting dirty, Johnny strikes out for the ticklish spot in the side, causing Bobby to squawk and sprawl over him.

...A position that becomes very awkward very fast, because it seems that Mr. Drake has not quite gotten over the state of being pleased to see Candy and Stacy. Worse, certain parts of Johnny's anatomy that were also quite interested to get an introduction decide to perk up just in case something exciting's happening.

There is a moment of rigid mutual horror, during which Johnny desperately tries to think of a better term than rigid. Like stiffness, or tension, or... shut up, brain.

Judging by Bobby's wide-eyed stare and nervous swallow, he's currently fully occupied with trying to figure out how to get off - last warning, brain - of Johnny in a way that won't cause any accidental friction.

Johnny is mostly in agreement with this plan, but there's a dissenting vote being raised in the region of his boxer shorts. Very very much raised. The voices of logic and sexual frustration (who knew they went so well together? This explains so much about geeks) feel obliged to point out that Bobby is, A, allowed in his bedroom with no questions from Aunt May; B, just frustratedly horny as he is; and, C, in possession of several useful and interesting body parts such as hands and a mouth.

...Okay, and a dick too, which is definitely kind of weird, but there's got to be some way to work with that. He bucks his hips experimentally, and Bobby's wide eyes go wider. Hell yeah, this has some definite potential.

He grabs hold of Bobby's hips and pulls him in to grind a little closer. Bobby squirms in alarm, which is frankly not the worst thing ever to happen to his dick. "What are you do- _ing_?" Bobby yelps, voice going three shades higher as Johnny licks his neck.

"Circumventing the no hanky-panky rule," he explains, going for the zipper on Bobby's pants. Bobby squeaks and struggles, but there seems to be a disagreement between the upper and lower halves of his body as to which direction it should be going.

"I'm not gay!" he blurts urgently, as Johnny rolls him over onto his back.

"Neither am I," Johnny says with a shrug, and shoves Bobby's pants down past his hips. Huh. Boxers. Well, that's added another one to his list of underwear seen in the field. He pushes back into a kneeling position, straddling Bobby as he whips off his own belt.

Bobby, he notes, is not exactly making the most of this opportunity to get away. Instead he presses his shoulders back into the bed, crinkling the porno mag that's still beneath his head. "This seems like it's probably a bit gay," he says, eyeing Johnny dubiously.

"It's not gay if it's two straight guys doing it," Johnny says with an aura of confidence, pushing down his jeans and his boxers together.

"I can see a dick, and it's not mine!" Bobby shouts, wriggling renewed. " _That's_ gay, Johnny!"

"Oh, shut up," Johnny says, smirking, and falls on top of him.

Bobby keeps struggling for a moment, but once his boxers are down too it quickly turns into a different kind of squirming as they grind together - oh, man, _skin_ ; warm, solid, yielding human flesh, and who gives a damn what shape it is when it feels this _good_ to press into? Johnny kisses and licks and nips at the exposed skin between collarbone and ear, and it's not like that tastes any different even if there's a slight scrape of stubble against his cheek from Bobby's jaw.

The lack of boobs throws him for a moment, but he grabs hold of Bobby's ass instead and that seems to work for both of them. Bobby's making huffing panting groaning noises against his shoulder and rocking into him, and yeah, it feels a little weird, but not gross weird, more like kinky weird.

Johnny is nothing if not a fan of kinky weird. He sets his teeth against Bobby's neck and bites down _juuust_ a little bit, and Bobby makes a soft little whimpering gasping noise - and then things are abruptly more sticky down there, but he hasn't got time to worry about that now because he's going to-

_Ahh_.

He sags down against Bobby, dropping his head onto the pillow. Which still has a porno mag open on it that he could totally have been looking at if he'd thought of it. Damn. Oh, well, that was good anyway.

He could so totally sleep now. At least Bobby's not expecting him to keep up intelligent conversation. Bonus!

"That was so totally gay," Bobby mumbles against his shoulder, a few seconds later.

"Whoops," Johnny says lazily, and flicks his ear. "Guess it's too late for it to matter if we do it again, then," he says, and smirks.

Bobby's tired grunt is possibly agreement. And if it's not, well... Johnny has time to work on him.

He wonders how Bobby feels about trading blowjobs.


End file.
